Prologue
The first time I saw Jane, Gerald, and Natalie was at Orient Beach, a clothing-optional beach on my home island of St. Martin where we had taken my brother-in-law Phillipe and his daughter Eleanor for a swim. The three Americans, nudists from Florida, were sunning
au naturel
. Eleanor struck up a conversation with Natalie, Gerald’s daughter and Jane’s stepdaughter, and thereafter we adults became acquainted. I was heavily pregnant at the time, and both Phillipe and I were wearing swimsuits. However, neither Jane nor Gerald seemed bashful, and we soon struck up one of those common but temporary vacation friendships. Jane was the same age as Sylvie and myself, early thirties, and Gerald was certainly quite a bit older as his daughter Natalie was nineteen.
Once Jane became aware that I was attached to Sylvie and not Phillipe, she started to confide in me various aspects of her and Gerald’s private life. Among her confessions were that she had a domme mistress whom she visited from time to time to undergo bondage and discipline sessions. She also told me that she and Gerald had been swingers and liked “group activities.” I enjoyed these confidences but didn’t rise to the obvious bait, so their week on St. Martin passed without any sexual encounters on either my part or Sylvie’s.
A result of this acquaintance was that Jane and I began an email correspondence in which we shared our sexual thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Having Jane as a pen pal was stimulating, but I never expected to meet her or Gerald again. Nevertheless, a year later I learned that they had rented a timeshare in Phillipsburg for a week and were looking forward to renewing our friendship in person.
Fun With Jane
The first meeting with the Americans was Sunday afternoon at their condo, which overlooks Simpson Bay Lagoon. They invited us for lunch to be followed by cocktails around the pool. I half-expected to find the three nudists naked, but normally dressed tourists in shorts and shirts greeted Sylvie and me. Once we had all exchanged hugs and kisses, and they had coo-coo'ed over my baby daughter Mireille, we spent a pleasant afternoon.
Sylvie had to work on Monday, but she invited them to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants Monday evening. I asked if they cared to spend Monday aboard
Mouette
, our sailboat home. Gerald and Natalie had already made plans to learn parasailing at Orient Beach, but Jane quickly accepted my offer, gaining me a sly wink from Sylvie.
Jane arrived at the marina by taxi the following morning as arranged. I had just put Mireille down for a nap, so we were free for whatever might transpire.
She began, "I feel a bit tongue-tied talking to you in person, after all we’ve shared by email."
"Do you think it should make a difference?"
"Of course it makes a difference. When I write you from home I get so excited that I always masturbate. What do you think when you read them?"
"I don't masturbate reading emails by myself, but when I read them aloud to Sylvie in French, we sometimes get carried away."
"I often thought about the two of you like that. Am I so very wicked?"
"Of course you're wicked, which is why I like writing to you. I don't think I could correspond with a saint."
"No, I suppose not. Nor I. What do you want to do today?"
"What is it you want?"
"You
know
what I want!"
"Yes, I suppose I do. You want me to tie you up and beat you and fuck you. Correct?"
In a soft voice with lowered eyes: "Yes, Mistress."
I'd learned a few things from erotic chat rooms, so I slapped her across the face. She was more shocked than hurt, and tears came to her eyes as I said, "I am
not
your Mistress. I'm just someone who is going to use you for my pleasure. Now take off your clothes and speak only when I speak to you!"
Jane's stripping involved removing only her shorts, beach shirt, and sandals. I gave her a pair of lace gloves and my pink satin slippers to wear, as I find a few items of clothing stimulating. She stood before me with head bowed and arms folded under her small breasts. I had prepared in advance, knowing how events were likely to turn. Thus it was the work of a few minutes to turn her around with her on her knees on the starboard settee, legs apart, and wrists tied apart with stockings to the grab rail above her head. I had a piece of teak wood a little over a foot long that I wedged between her knees, thus keeping her thighs and buttocks spread wide. She had shaved her mound completely, so that her hairless labia peeped out between her spread cheeks. A slight trace of moisture dewed her inner lips, showing me that she was already excited.
I told her, "In the old days, being whipped on board a ship meant the cat-o-nine-tails, and men would do anything to avoid it, as it left their backs looking like ground beef, and scarred for life afterwards. What do you think about that?"
"I don't want any blood or marks."
"You should have thought of that before entering my den. Perhaps I may write my name on your back with my lash."
"Please don't do that, Sonia! Please!"
I knew that her domme didn't draw blood, but it pleased me to add the spice of fear to my performance. "I see your pussy is already leaking. It will have to wait for a while. But since you're such an ass-loving woman, I think we'll have to plug it with something. I don't want you getting my cabin filthy." I had a thick dildo at hand, and after greasing it liberally with KY, I brought the head to Jane's "bronze eye" and slowly pushed it into her. "I hope you had the decency to have an enema before coming here. If you get my dildo dirty you'll have to clean it off for me."